A Wish I Didn't Make
by TNM-Writer
Summary: "I came to very slowly. My head ached, and the rumbling, jumping cold floor beneath me did not do anything to ease the pain." I was kidnapped. By what or who, I don't know. And now I'm in this Not-World, filled with Pokemon, and I have to go on a trip around the country, which I'm probably going to die on. A fem!OC-insert with a spin, set in Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald. Rated T.


_Chapter One: Van Adventures_

I came to very slowly. My head ached, and the rumbling, jumping cold floor beneath me did not do anything to ease the pain. Something was under my back and shoulders, holding me up and letting my head dangle uncomfortably. My arms were spread out, and I felt the floor with my finger tips. Metal. I slowly opened my eyes into a squint. Instantly I shut them again. It wasn't bright in the shaking room, but there was light flicking in from somewhere that burned at my eyelids. No lights on the ceiling, but it came from somewhere.

I pulled my arms in towards myself, feeling straps across my shoulders stretch and move; I was wearing my backpack. That was what was under me. What had happened? I scrunched up my nose before smoothing it out again; even the smallest movement on my face sent a wave of pain through my skull. I tried to remember what I'd been doing. I could remember…science class. It's Monday, first school day of the week. Or had Monday already passed?

I remember the bell ringing, signaling the end of the day. I remember gleefully stuffing my MacBook Air into my backpack like the rest of the students, plugging my earbuds into my ears and phone, turning on my music and walking out of the school building. What then? I…had been going towards the buses. I could see my older sister a few feet in front of me, with her friends, laughing as they went in the same direction.

Then I remembered it. Something slamming into the back of my head with enough force that I had simply froze up, falling forward, black spots appearing in my vision…then feeling the vibrating floor underneath me.

What had happened?

It was a slow realization. Or maybe it was fast, but I just reacted slowly. My body tensed up, starting with my fingers and toes, then my shoulders and legs, then my stomach clenched and my breath caught. _I__'__d been kidnapped._

In the school parking lot. In front of everyone, with the school cameras pointing at it, and someone had _kidnapped_ me. Obviously succeeded, too. What had people always said about situations like this? I couldn't remember anyone ever talking about it. It was always 'scream for help', 'run', 'don't get into a car'. Never anything about _if_ you got kidnapped.

There was something wrong with that, but I wasn't in the right mind to think about it. Instead, I slowly pulled my arms through my backpack straps - oh, my earbud cords are caught in them. Untangling them, I rolled over and off my backpack, forearms holding me up on the floor. I squinted again, the silver floor cold to the touch. It vibrated through my arms and up my shoulders. It didn't hurt as much to look at the floor, and my eyes slowly got used to it, though the throbbing in my head only intensified.

I didn't have a concussion, or at least I hoped I didn't. No broken bones, only sore muscles and an aching back from laying on top of my backpack. I was in relatively good condition .There were no bindings on me, either. I looked up.

Boxes. Brown boxes, taped closed, labels on them that I couldn't read in the lighting. I looked behind me, seeing the door. I was in a moving van, the back of one that is. Alright. That's where the light was coming from, the edges of the van door. Pushing myself up onto my knees, I crawled across the moving floor to it, grubbed the handle, and pulled. Nothing budged.

I gave a groan, and pressed my forehead into the cold metal. It felt good on my forehead. Falling on my ass I put my head in my hands and leaned forward. Something in my baggy jacket's pocket fell out with a thunk and my eyes snapped back open; my phone. I grabbed it and clicked the power button; it was still at full power. I thanked whatever deity was looking out for me for that one miracle, and unlocked it and went right into the calling, typing in 911.

Pressing the phone to my ear with both hands, I couldn't keep the grin off my face. My kidnappers were idiots if they left my phone on me. I mean, re- _dial tone?!_ I pulled my phone from my ear and tapped the screen; no service. No wifi. Nothing. There wasn't a router anywhere around me. That was… Where the hell was I?!

An idea came to me. I'd seen Hannibal, or at least, the prequel; the trans girl who'd been skinning people to make a woman's body for herself, when he kidnapped that one girl, the mother kept saying her name to- to- what was it?! Oh! To remind her that the daughter was human! Because that, for some reason, made it harder for kidnappers and murderers to do anything to them!

I crawled to the other side of the back of the van, across from the door where I knew the cab of it had to be. Clenching my fists, I banged on it.

"Hey! Hey!" I screamed, banging, "Let me out of here! My name is Rachel Jordan! Please let me out!"

There was no response, the van didn't stop, no one banged on the other side to get me to shut up. Just…nothing. I continued to do this for what seemed like hours, banging and screaming until my voice was raw and all I could do was kneel against the van wall and sob.

"I wa-wanna go h-home," I sobbed quietly, "Mommy…Daddy…"

_I wanna go home._

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Time was hard to tell. My phone's clock had frozen, along with most of my much needed apps, like the weather and map app I had. Some things wouldn't even open, like Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Chrome… My camera worked, as did most of my games, my music, the flashlight app, and other miscellaneous apps like Polaris Office and the voice recorder.

I checked my backpack first, using the flashlight app to see; my MacBook was broken, the screen shattered and keyboard smashed under the weight of everything in the bag and myself. My school work was still there, so I still had everything.

For a while I simply sat in the van, curled around my backpack, fighting off the headache I had from being hit and waiting for the van to get to wherever it was going. I took three naps. I beat my highscore on Flappy Bird, Geometry Dash, and the Amazing Brick. I didn't dare play Five Nights at Freddy's, not right now. I listened to my whole music playlist three times, and never once skipped a song. Eventually, I did all my homework, and read ahead in French and Geometry. I finished the last chapter to the book in my backpack, which wasn't very pleasant with the main character 'dying', though no one ever died in this author's stories, really. I combed through my now greasy reddish-brown hair, from root to the ends at my shoulders, with my fingers, getting out all the tangles and knots.

Still, the van never stopped. I wondered vaguely if my kidnappers were trying to drive me insane, or if we were going out of the country. Maybe to Brazil. Who knew? I certainly didn't.

Soon enough, I turned my attention to the boxes around. Turning on my flashlight app, I pulled one close to me. _Clothes_, it read, in looping, curly sharpie. Turning the light onto another box, I read the sharpie words _fine china_, and on another was _Mama__'__s things_.

"I'm in a moving van," I said aloud as I realized it. "Why am I in a moving van?"

The idea that a family had kidnapped me was both laughable and a bit terrifying, if true. If a family had kidnapped me, then that gave them a reason to be at the school parking lot. It also meant that they had a student there at the school, maybe someone I'd gone to class with, they might be the kind of kidnappers that pick out their victim before hand. Maybe obsess over them.

_I__'__m probably thinking too hard about this,_ I thought to myself, closing my blue eys and running a darkly tanned hand through my hair. It was becoming greasy. _There__'__s over three hundred teenagers in my Sophomore year alone, let alone my age group of Freshmen, or the school overall. _

Maybe I could find pictures, though. See if I recognized anyone. I spun on my bum, and began to search through the boxes. After about ten more clothing boxes, another box for 'Mama', two for 'Papa', I found a box titled 'albums'. Hoping that it meant photo albums and not music albums, I pulled my house key out of my backpack and hacked through the tape closing the box. I was right.

I pulled an album out of the box, more of a scrapbook really, and opened it up.

And froze.

The first picture was obviously a christmas card. Rectangular, dark green with some kind of four legged brown and white creature with jagged fur lining the card, and curly cursive lettering proclaimed; _Merry Christmas from the Jordan__'__s!_

In the picture, there was an unfamiliar living room with a christmas tree in the back, decorated and everything. Three people stood in front of it; two adults with their arms around their child. A man with tanned skin, black hair, dark eyes, and a red jacket, and balls hooked onto his belt. Red on the top, white on the bottom. The woman had brown hair pulled into an over-the-shoulder ponytail, kind blue eyes, and a cheerful smile. She was in a yellow dress.

But right there, right between them, with a big grin on her face and the adults' arms around her shoulders was…me. Or, at least, what looked like me. She had my face, my hair, my eyes, my clothing style. But she was younger. Yet a clone. She didn't look like a younger me, per say, but me as I am, just shrunk. Rounder cheeks, dimples, childish. It was scary.

I looked at myself. My clothes were baggy. They weren't baggy before. They'd actually been a bit of a tight fit. The shorts I wore, which had reached to my knees, now reached below my knees. My elbow length shirt was no long sleeved. My jacket reached past my ass.

_I__'__m hyperventilating._

I pulled out my phone, and turned on the camera. I turned it around, cursing the lack of a screen camera. _Flash. Click._ I turned it around.

Staring at me from the camera was a frightened ten year old, shrunken-me.

I _screamed_.

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Some time later I sat up. For hours, maybe days, who knew, I had been curled around my backpack, trying to overcome the shock to my system and mind. Somehow, I'd been shrunken, placed in the back of a moving van, and seemed…seemed to have a whole new family. Everything had gone wacko, and had it not been for my too-large clothing, my backpack, and phone filled with photos of actual-me, I might have assumed that my whole life as Rachel Jordan, daughter of Maria and Juliette Jordan, younger sister to Hannah Jordan and older sister to Alexander Jordan, was a dream.

My phone was dead, died a little while ago, and though I had my charger in my backpack there were no plug-ins here, and my MacBook was too broken to plug in the USB cord. I shouldn't have used it so much.

_Whoever - or whatever did this__…_ I clenched my fists and brought them back to my eyes as they began to water once more, tears stinging in my eyes. _They__'__re gonna get my foot up their ass. _

Eventually I went to sleep, and I dreamt of a star-like creature who raced awoke in the sky and flew with laughter.

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In a back corner of a moving van there were about ten boxes labeled mine. Four of them were filled with clothes, and the rest had books. I even found a diary, a large thick book with no actual year dates in it. I wondered how Not-Me kept a diary, whenever I tried I ended up losing interest or motivation after a week. I skimmed through it pretty quickly - that is, till the mention of Pokémon. Then, I not only delved into the diary with a ferocity, but also the other books in the six boxes.

Pokémon seemed to have replaced animals in this Not-World. Pokémon that knew magic things, could battle, and don't even get me started on Trainers. According to Not-Me's diary, she and her family (a stay-at-home mom and a gym leader for a dad, which seemed big apparently) had moved from Johto to Hoenn, and Not-Me was supposed to start her Pokémon journey as soon as they were done unpacking. As in, Not-Me's parents were going to let a ten-year-old girl go traipsing off around the country - _alone _- to be a Pokémon Trainer. As in, actively fight people.

Not-World was a strange place, that is for sure.

_Wait__…_ My fingers stilled on the seventy-sixth page of Not-Me's diary. _If I__'__m supposed to be Not-Me__…__I__'__m going to have to go on Not-Me__'__s hike around Hoenn._

I broke down in sobs once more. I just wanted to go home, not go on a round-the-country trip that could kill me. God dammit.

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**And there you have it. Six pages of awesome. As you can see, it****'****s a Pok****é****mon OC-insert story, the usual, and in honor of ORAS, it is in Sapphire/Ruby/Emerald. There****'****ll be no anime-cameos, either. This is the first chapter, I****'****m already started on the second, don****'****t worry about it. This is not a Self-Insert. Rachel is not me - doesn****'****t even look like me. I****'****m blonde, pale skinned, and my eyes are grey-blue. She****'****s red-brown haired, brown skinned, and her eyes are brown. **

**Thank you for reading this first chapter. I would love it if you would leave a review.**


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